


the edge in your affection (broke my skin)

by quantumducky



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Gerard Keay Lives, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Set in like the last quarter of s3, but like- a legitimate triangle and not just an angle, everyone is bad at feelings, in three directions at once!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/pseuds/quantumducky
Summary: Jon has nearly given up on finding anything of much value in America, when by pure coincidence he manages to run into Gerard Keay himself, considerably less dead than expected. It's possible that, if he were a bit better versed in recognizing such a thing as a crush, he might have a more honest understanding of why exactly he's so eager to bring Gerry back to London with him. He also might have...anyunderstanding of why things get so weird withMartinonce he actually succeeds in this.Or: As if everyone didn't have enough problems at the end of season 3 already, I've gone and added a ridiculous love triangle into the mix.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 96
Kudos: 508





	1. the archivist fights a cop in a denny's parking lot

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric from Apple Candy by Ben Lee.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a _very_ American experience and makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first attempt at a longish fic in this fandom :) hoping i can update with some regularity, we'll see

Jon was not having a good time in America. Between the general fatigue that came of lots of traveling on little sleep, the possibility that he was still being followed, and  _ statement withdrawal _ apparently becoming the latest addition to his list of problems… He wasn’t even finding any solid answers, really, and he wanted to be done with it and go  _ home. _ That was exactly what he was going to do, once he’d made one last stop at the Usher Foundation. Insofar as  _ going home _ was even something he could do at this point, anyway.

The buses had stopped for a break, and he sat down with a mediocre cup of coffee to go over his notes yet again, as if new information would magically make itself known to him. …Which, on second thought, wasn’t too far out of the question. He’d just pressed play on the tape recorder- talking to it often helped him think, somehow- when a figure across the room caught his eye.

He was… well. First things first, he was unmistakably Gerard Keay. The exhausted way he sat, hunched over his own drink and a newspaper, meant his face was mostly obscured by his long hair, and he was wearing a thin turtleneck sweater despite the summer heat outside- but Jon could see his tattooed hands resting on the table, and that was enough to confirm his suspicions. Of course, the problem with this was that Gerard Keay was supposed to have  _ died. _ It could be that everyone was mistaken, but… well, it all just felt a little too convenient. The universe was not in the habit of allowing Jonathan Sims to be this lucky. But he didn’t  _ seem _ like anything… inhuman… and even if he  _ was _ some kind of impostor, it wasn’t like Jon could slip out without him noticing, so maybe- maybe he would just watch a little longer, see if he could figure it out, and then--

Gerard frowned suddenly at his paper and then looked up, straight at Jon. His eyes were a striking deep blue, which was perhaps less important than the fact that he did  _ not _ look happy to have caught Jon staring at him. He groaned and put his head in his hands, not looking up again until Jon had finished wincing at the situation, made his way over and sat down across from him.

“Are- are you Gerard Keay?” Jon asked after a deeply awkward moment of silence.

He looked even  _ less _ happy at that, and sat up marginally straighter with a sigh. “Yeah, I am. Christ, thought I was done with this. Well, what’s it going to be this time? You after revenge for something Gertrude Robinson did, something my  _ mother _ did, or something that was actually my fault, for a change?”

Jon blinked. “I, uh- n-none? I’m not- look, I, I think there’s- some misunderstanding here, I-I’m from the Magnus Institute.” He hesitated, then held out his hand. “Jonathan Sims. I’m the Archivist.”

Gerard relaxed, though never entirely, and leaned back. “Thought I was done with  _ that, _ too,” he muttered, but he shook Jon’s hand nonetheless. “You’re Gertrude’s replacement, then?”

“Yes.” Jon shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should say something along the lines of ‘sorry she’s dead,’ even though it had been long enough at this point that he was  _ pretty _ sure condolences were no longer expected, but they did seem to have been fairly close from what he could tell, and did it change anything that he was  _ replacing _ her-

“Never did find out how she died,” Gerard said almost idly, and all Jon’s attempts to formulate a script for a completely novel social situation went out the window.

“Oh. Um. She was shot. Several times.”

He nodded and said, rather nonsensically as far as Jon was concerned, “That’s good.” When he caught the odd look that got him, he added, “Don’t think she’d have been happy, dying in her sleep or something.”

“Ah. Yes, that’s… that’s the impression I’ve gotten. …Speaking of- of death, I suppose,” and wasn’t  _ that _ a lovely segue, “aren’t…  _ you _ supposed to be dead?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m  _ not, _ obviously. Gertrude thought, when she left me over here, maybe I’d get less trouble if less people knew I was still alive.”

“Judging by your reaction before I introduced myself, I’d say it hasn’t worked?”

“Not really. Turns out most things that want to kill me don’t care if I’m already legally dead.”

“Right.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and Gerard exhaled and folded up his newspaper, preparing to stand up and leave.

“Wait,” Jon said in a rush, “I-I’ve been looking for you because I need your help.” 

He settled back into his seat with a muttered, “Of course.”

“Gertrude, before she died, I think she’d found a way to stop the Unknowing, a-and she didn’t exactly… leave me any clear instructions on how to finish the job. If you know anything about-”

Suddenly, Gerard shushed him. Jon cut off, looking at him with a puzzled expression, but he was focused somewhere over Jon’s shoulder.

“Don’t look now, but I think you’ve been followed.”

Jon stiffened, and forced himself to not turn around.  _ “Damn. _ It’s a- a policeman?” A nod. He swore again. “I thought I’d lost him…”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong. You’ve been taking a bus, right? I wouldn’t get back on it, unless you want to drag all the other passengers into this.” He spoke quickly, his eyes not leaving their target. It was a completely different side of him from the tired-looking man Jon had first seen.  _ This _ was the Gerard Keay people talked about in the statements, and even while knowing they were both in danger, Jon felt a little rush of excitement at the idea of seeing him in action. Gerard paused and then nodded to himself, as if making a decision. “I’ve got a car, follow me and  _ don’t _ let on that you’ve noticed anything.”

He stood, unhurried, and gathered up his things, and Jon tried to follow suit, though he wasn’t very good at acting casual. The hardest part was not letting himself turn around as they walked out to see if the suspicious cop was following them. Gerard, at least, seemed certain he would. He refused to look as if they were rushing to leave, but he also didn’t pause for a moment in starting up the car and getting out of there.

It was, Jon couldn’t help but notice, almost exactly the sort of car he would have expected Gerard Keay to own, had he expected him to own a car of any description at all. Old and black and a little beat-up, the back seat a mess of vaguely supernatural junk mixed in with the more basic variety, and Jon couldn’t help but wince at the music that started blasting as soon as it was started. “Do you mind-”

“Sorry, it’s usually just me in here.” He turned the volume down to something only  _ slightly _ painful for Jon’s ears and started driving.

“Thanks.” They sat for a while in- well, it definitely wasn’t  _ silence, _ but neither of them was talking. “What, ah, what’s your plan, here?” Jon finally asked. He kept looking in the mirrors, and every time, he saw the same cop car trailing them.

Gerard shrugged. “Keep going ‘til we lose him and then find an airport.”

“Oh. Right.” He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. “And… if that doesn’t work, what are we going to do?”

He shrugged again. “There’s a knife or two in the back. Somewhere. Might not do any good, mind, depending what sort of thing he  _ is.” _

“Stranger,” Jon said without having to think. “Probably knows I’m trying to stop the ritual. I don’t think any of the organs he has are strictly  _ required.” _

“Eugh.” Gerard tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Still, could be worse. Seeing the uniform, I was afraid you had a hunter after you.”

Jon grimaced, unconsciously rubbing the mostly-healed mark on his throat. “Not… not  _ this _ time, at least.”

He nodded and went back to focusing on the road, apparently happy to ignore each other for however long this drive took. Jon supposed he should probably go along with it, and he did try. For about fifteen minutes, before he’d thought of too many questions to be able to hold them all in anymore.

“So… as long as we’re here,” he began tentatively. Gerard glanced over at him, sighed, and turned the music down further so they could actually have a conversation, however reluctant he may have been about it. “I  _ do _ still need to know, if there’s anything you can tell me about what Gertrude was doing?”

“Guess I’ve got nothing better to do for the next… several hours. Fine.” Jon had already dug a tape recorder out of his bag before he’d even registered himself looking for one. “But two things: one, you’ve got to tell me whatever  _ you _ know that I’ve missed, too.”

Jon nodded; that was only fair.

“And two- promise you’re not going to get me  _ killed _ once you’ve gotten what you need.” His voice was suddenly harsh, a startling contrast to the pleasant, if somewhat wary and reserved, attitude he’d had so far. Jon looked behind them and back over at him.

“I- I- I mean, I can’t really  _ promise- _ that is, I- I’ll do my best?” Honestly, Jon thought  _ he _ was the one much more likely to get killed in this situation, and what exactly was he supposed to do about it if the imitation of a man following them caught up?

“Hm. Good enough, I suppose.”

Jon clicked his tape recorder on, and Gerard began.

* * *

They ended up talking for nearly an hour before they’d both run out of questions for the time being. Gerard explained what he knew of Gertrude’s plans to stop the Unknowing, the fourteen entities as defined by Smirke, and a somewhat uncomfortable amount of his relationship with his late mother, which… Jon suspected may have been somewhat the fault of his Archivist abilities, not that he was going to say so. In return, he summarized what had happened at the Institute since Gertrude’s death as best he could. Since this included a good few near-death experiences for Jon personally, he felt they were now even, as far as knowing a little too much about each other’s trauma went.

“I haven’t seen that car for a while,” Gerard commented after a long period of quiet following their conversation. “What do you think?”

Jon rubbed a hand over his face, pulling himself up from where he’d slumped against the window. The talk they’d had left him tired in a comfortable sort of way- he tried not to compare it to the feeling of having just eaten a large meal- and it didn’t exactly help that it was so early in the morning. “I, uh…” He turned in his seat, looking around. They’d entered a city and he had barely even noticed. “I… yes, I suppose we must have lost him.” He wasn’t exactly sure how Gerard had managed that, traveling mostly on highways, and suspected there had been some minor disregard of traffic laws involved.

“Great. Where do you wanna stop?”

Jon blinked. “…Pardon?”

“For  _ food, _ Jon. And  _ coffee. _ Unless you’d like to take a turn driving.”

“Oh! No- I can’t really, uh…”

“Wouldn’t let you drive my car anyway,” he dismissed. “So…?”

“I-I don’t know?” Jon had been awake for five hours and it wasn’t even 10 AM yet, how was  _ he _ supposed to make any decisions? Let alone ones about restaurants in a city he’d never been to before.

“Then we’re going to Denny’s.” He didn’t even ask whether there  _ was _ a Denny’s in- Jon looked at the map on his phone- Hagerstown, Maryland. Just kept driving until one appeared, which it did, when they were almost out of the city on the other side. “There’s  _ always _ a Denny’s,” he said triumphantly, and pulled into the parking lot.

Neither of them, it seemed, had eaten much of anything at the rest stop where they’d run into each other, and Gerard ordered a full breakfast and then regarded it with mild regret when it actually arrived. Yeah, that might also become his lunch. Jon, meanwhile, was still having trouble feeling hungry instead of nauseous after how early he’d woken up to catch his bus, and tried to make himself eat some toast with middling success. Both of them were drinking coffee as if their lives depended on it. Which, upon reflection, was probably not helping Jon feel any less sick- especially when he refused to add his usual amount of sugar and cream to make it less disgusting in front of  _ Gerard Keay, _ who evidently  _ liked _ black coffee somehow.

As Jon grew less and less interested in actually eating his food, he started to get lost in thought, staring straight ahead. Which… probably  _ looked _ rather like he was just staring at Gerard, but, well.  _ He _ was the one covered in eye tattoos. He ought to be used to that sort of thing. Anyway, Jon was thinking- at first about his next move, once he was back at the Institute, but gradually, his thoughts turned to how… unexpectedly nice this was.

Not the part about his life being in danger, obviously, that had been very stressful. But if he  _ was _ going to be travelling all over the eastern states while trying to evade a creature of the Stranger… it was much better, it turned out, to not be doing it alone. And, he had to admit,  _ particularly _ better that it was  _ Gerard- _ someone who actually knew what he was doing, probably more than Jon himself did. Before he’d had Georgie for support, and Martin, and… well, not  _ exactly _ Tim, at this point, and he didn’t know Melanie or Basira all that well, but they were there in  _ some _ sense. But Jon couldn’t help worrying, when he went to any of them, that he was dragging them into danger along with him. Which couldn’t happen with someone who was already in just as deep, could it? So, yes, it was  _ nice. _

“So,” said Gerard, snapping Jon out of his thoughts. He tried not to look too much as though he had, in fact, been thinking about  _ him. _ “It’s another hour and a half from here to DC, more or less. Do you still want me to drop you at the Usher Foundation, or would you rather just go straight to the airport?”

“Oh, uh…” Jon had nearly forgotten, somehow, that getting to the Usher Foundation had ever been his plan in the first place. “I… the airport, I suppose. You’ve already given me all the information I was hoping to find there.” He hesitated, taking another sip of his coffee, which was still horrible. “I- I was thinking, though- I don’t suppose you- I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you’re not opposed, I wondered if you might want to… come back with me and-”

Gerard shushed him very suddenly, and Jon was going to be a little offended until he realized he was staring at something out the window.

“Is it-?”

“He’s back.”

“How did he  _ find _ us again?”

“I dunno, license plates? Apparently being a bloody  _ cop?” _

“R-right. What do we do?”

Gerard looked around the restaurant. At this time of day, it was fairly crowded. “Well, we aren’t going to let him catch us in  _ here, _ that’s for sure.”

“Too many innocent people?”

He waggled a hand in an “eh” gesture. “Too many  _ witnesses.” _

Jon nodded awkwardly.

“Come on. If we get outside fast enough, we might be able to sneak around to the car and leave while he’s checking in here for us.”

He stood up and started for the door, slapping probably twice as much money as was actually necessary down on the table. Jon grabbed his bag- it contained absolutely nothing of value to anyone who wasn’t him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave it in the car- and followed. From within, he heard the by-now-familiar sound of a tape recorder turning itself on. So  _ that _ was sure to be a good sign.

As it turned out, they barely even made it out of the building before being stopped. “Hold it,” the officer called, striding toward them. Jon froze and looked to Gerard, who was busy swearing to himself while glancing around for a nonexistent escape. “I’m going to need both of you to come with me.”

Gerard exhaled slowly and leaned back against the building, arms crossed, affecting disinterest. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t think any of us want to make a scene here, sir. Come on, get in the car.” He jerked his head in that direction impatiently.

“I know what you  _ are,” _ Jon hissed. “You’re not a cop. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Gerard visibly winced.

The officer smiled. It was clear he hadn’t practiced that particular expression quite enough to get it right. “Oh, is that so? I’ll stop pretending I care about doing things  _ legally, _ then.” He reached for his gun. Jon tried not to panic too obviously, while in the background Gerard muttered something about him clearly not having been an American cop for very  _ long, _ if he thought that sort of thing actually mattered.

“Last chance to come quietly, Archivist.”

Jon didn’t move. He was, to be honest, still pretty fixated on the  _ gun pointed at him. _

“You’re not  _ actually _ going to shoot him,” Gerard scoffed. “You want him alive.”

There was an  _ incredibly _ worrying moment of silence. Then, the officer sighed and lowered his weapon. Jon braced himself against the wall behind him and tried to remember how to breathe properly again.

“Fine, you’re right, we need him.” He smiled again, wide, and this time, it  _ must _ have been that terrifying on purpose. “…But we don’t need  _ you.” _

Jon’s head shot up, eyes wide, and Gerard cursed rather loudly. But before the officer could act on his threat, something  _ else _ happened.

A car screeched into the parking lot, taking the turn off of the road without slowing down. It all happened too fast to see the driver’s face, but it would have been difficult to notice the person leaning out of the back window, who yelled something incomprehensible and  _ slammed a fucking baseball bat into the officer’s head. _ By some miracle and much abuse of the brakes, the car managed to stop without hitting anything, and Jon watched in shock as the two  _ utterly insane _ people inside jumped out and high-fived triumphantly. It took them a while to even notice he was there- at first, they were busy examining the body, saying something about cutting the head off to be safe. He probably could have just quietly walked back into the restaurant, actually, if there had been a single bone in his body capable of leaving well enough alone- Gerard had already disappeared back inside.

“Uh- excuse me?” They looked at him in unsettling unison, and then looked at each other.

“Well, shit,” one of them sighed- a woman on the younger side, in stark contrast to her companion. “Uh, listen, this… isn’t what it looks like?”

“Oh, no, no, I- I know that,” Jon assured her hurriedly. “He, he wasn’t human. And  _ was _ stalking and trying to kill me, which I appreciate you… preventing. No, I was just- who  _ are _ you?”

“Oh? Good, then we won’t have to kill you.” She grinned, but Jon had absolutely no idea if she was joking or not. “I’m Julia, the old bastard’s Trevor.”

“I- sorry- not Trevor  _ Herbert? _ The, the  _ vampire hunter?” _

Trevor gave him a suspicious look. “How’d you know-”

“I’m- I work at the Magnus Institute, in London? Head Archivist, actually. Uh- Jonathan Sims.” He nearly tried to shake Trevor’s hand before remembering about all the blood on it. “So, yes, I’ve… read your statement.”

“Sure.”

“Reckon you’ll have heard about me, too, then.” Julia had a quick look around- there was, luckily, no one in line of sight at the moment- and dragged the officer into the trunk of her car. “Went in myself a while ago, ended up spilling my guts to this old woman about my dad. More than I meant to, really, but.” She shrugged.

“Gertrude Robinson?”

“I dunno. Sure.”

“A-anyway. What are you doing  _ here?” _

“What’s it  _ look _ like we’re doing?” Trevor laughed. “You’re the  _ academic.” _

“Aside from…” He winced. “That.”

Julia leaned back against the car with a sigh, wiping her hands off on a rag, and gave him a slightly better answer. “We’ve been tracking that thing for a while now- thanks, by the way, for making good enough bait to catch it sitting still. Now  _ that’s _ done, we can focus on our  _ other _ target.”

“And, and what’s that?” Jon knew this conversation should have been over a long time ago, and was very likely to get him arrested for  _ real _ if he didn’t walk away soon, but- well. If he didn’t have a problem with curiosity, he wouldn’t be in any of this mess to begin with, would he?

“Some asshole, thinks he can get away with stealing from us,” Trevor said in a low growl. “And he must know what’s in that book- no thief in their right mind would bother with it otherwise. Either way, doubt he wants it more than he wants to  _ live.” _

Jon… did not have a good feeling about the direction this conversation was going.

Julia chimed in again: “Tall, goth and surly- don’t suppose you’ve seen him? Bunch of creepy tattoos, looks like he should be one of your lot?”

“N-no, I… I think I would have remembered seeing someone like that,” he managed. Could they-  _ smell _ lies on people, or something? Probably not, right? He really hoped not.

“Right. Well, this has just been a  _ lovely _ conversation, but we’ve got hunting to get back to.” Julia caught Trevor’s attention, and motioned toward the restaurant. “Have a quick look just to be sure, eh?”

“Wait!”

They both turned around and looked at him in that uncanny way again. Jon scrambled for  _ something _ to say that would both make a decent distraction and  _ not _ sound incredibly suspicious.

“Um. Would you… mind… telling me your story before you get back to all that? I mean- properly, recorded and all. Unless you’re worried about losing him, obviously, I wouldn’t want to… to get in the way of…”

“Don’t be  _ stupid, _ we’re not going to lose him,” Julia scoffed. She glanced at Trevor. “What d’you think?”

He shrugged. “Can’t hurt. He  _ did _ make very good bait.”

Jon tried not to mind being referred to as such. “Thank you. It shouldn’t take long.”

It was easy to lead them to an out-of-the-way booth with no clear view of the door, explaining he needed as little background noise on the tape as possible. It was even easier to keep the hunters’ full attention on him, once all three of them were deep in the statement. He didn’t exactly take his attention off  _ them _ at any point either, of course, but surely that must have bought  _ more _ than enough time for one man to exit a Denny’s. He didn’t try to follow after the hunters immediately when they left- it was going to take a few minutes to collect himself again, after taking his second live statement in one day. When his head was no longer muddled with bits of memory that weren’t his, he stood up and went to find out if he still had a ride.

It was something of a surprise to see Gerard waiting for him in the car, doing something on his phone. He looked up when Jon knocked on the window and unlocked the door to let him in.

“What were you  _ doing _ in there?”

“Oh. I, ah. I took their statement?”

“Really? That’s the first thing you thought about, at a time like this?”

“They were looking for  _ you,” _ Jon defended, “which you’re surely aware of. I was  _ trying _ to keep them  _ distracted.” _

“…Oh.” He seemed not entirely sure what to do with that. “Well, it worked. When they finally came out they just  _ left, _ didn’t look for me at all. So, thanks, I guess.”

Jon huffed softly. “There’s no need to sound surprised.”

“No, it’s just…  _ Gertrude _ would’ve expected me to deal with that sort of thing myself. Kind of assumed you’d be the same.”

“Well. I’m not Gertrude, I suppose.”

“No.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No, you’re not.”

They lapsed into quiet. Gerard started the car, making sure his music was reasonably quiet this time. Before they actually started moving, though, a thought struck him.

“By the way, what were you going to say earlier? Before-” he waved a hand vaguely- “all  _ that _ started happening. Sounded kind of important.”

Jon frowned, trying to remember what he was talking about. …Ah, right. Him sounding like an idiot. “Yes, I was… trying to ask if you would, ah. Be willing to come back to London with me. It’s not, I mean, I don’t  _ expect _ you to, but-”

Gerard cut him off with a considering hum. “You know what- sure. Not like things were going much better for me over here... And I’m pretty sure if the Unknowing works, it’s not gonna matter which side of the Atlantic I’m on, so. Count me in.”

Jon exhaled, unable to hide his smile. “Thank you, Gerard.”

He hesitated. “…Gerry.”

“What?”

“Gerard was what my mum called me… I’ve always wanted my friends to call me Gerry.”

“Oh! Are we- I mean- okay. Then- thank you, Gerry.”

He smiled, a tiny bit pink and embarrassed. Jon thought it might have been the least composed he’d seen him, and that was including when they’d both been about to die.  _ “Keay, _ actually, that’s her too- I’d rather take my dad’s last name. But nobody really asks you to introduce yourself when they already know who you are, so… hasn’t worked very well so far.”

“We could start over,” Jon said without really thinking.

It was his turn to be surprised. “What?”

“I mean- I can let you introduce yourself,” he explained, now trying  _ not _ to think about the possibility that he was making a fool of himself again, “and you can… not assume I’m going to be just like Gertrude?”

He stared for a second, and then that little smile came back, and Jon decided it didn’t really matter how ridiculous he may have just sounded. “Yeah, okay.”

Jon cleared his throat and held out his hand, a little awkward in the cramped space of the car. “Um- hello, I’m the- the new Archivist. Jon Sims.”

Looking amused, he shook Jon’s hand. “Gerry Delano. Nice to meet you.”

They locked eyes for a second, and then Gerry lost his composure and started laughing. Jon only managed to look offended for a second before the absurdity of it all got to him, too. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so funny without the mild sleep deprivation and recent brush with death, but then again, maybe after all that they both  _ needed _ something to laugh at.

“Alright,” Gerry finally said, sighing as he pulled himself together. “Let’s get to DC- we’ve got a plane to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta love a chapter where you can lift half the dialogue from the transcripts


	2. local man falls in love with anyone who is nice to him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerry is too jet-lagged for any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i survived finals and now i can update hooray

By the time the two of them arrived back in London, it was some ungodly hour in the middle of the night. Of course, to them it felt a good five hours earlier, but that didn’t mean they weren’t feeling pretty much ready to fall asleep on the nearest flat surface after that amount of traveling. Airplanes, Jon reflected, had been a lot less stressful before he knew about the Vast. And before people were constantly trying to murder and/or kidnap him, he supposed. In any case, he was  _ very _ glad they’d decided to book a hotel for the night on their way to the airport. It was better than taking a guest back to his own flat, where he was pretty sure he hadn’t cleaned out the fridge since first going to stay with Georgie, and  _ definitely _ better than the idea he’d  _ very _ briefly considered of acquiring a lot more caffeine from somewhere and staying awake until it was a reasonable time to head over to the Magnus Institute and report back to the others. Neither of them needed to be any more miserable than they already were, thanks.

The process of checking in and finding their room was a bit of a blur, both of them running on autopilot while simultaneously trying to stay alert for unexpected threats. By the time they made it inside- and once Gerry had finished checking the room over for safety reasons, while Jon stood by the door feeling sort of useless- nothing sounded better than collapsing on the mildly uncomfortable beds and sleeping for a week. Or, y’know, a few hours, which was how much time they  _ actually _ had before they’d have to get up and leave again. Still better than nothing.

“Are you even…” Jon interrupted himself with a yawn mid-sentence. “Are you sleeping with your  _ boots _ on?”

Gerry’s reply was heavily muffled, as he was sprawled face-down on the mattress. He’d immediately claimed dibs on the bed closer to the door. “Unless  _ you’re _ gonna take ‘em off me. You see the laces on these things? Too much work.”

Jon could not deny that he made a pretty compelling argument in favor of the boots staying on. If he didn’t care how uncomfortable he was in the morning, that was his problem.  _ He, _ on the other hand, refused to get in bed until after he’d undressed to a more reasonable level and brushed his teeth, because he  _ did _ in fact care, and by the time he came out of the bathroom he wasn’t sure Gerry hadn’t already passed out right where he was. Jon looked at him for a moment and then just shrugged, switched the lights off and got in bed himself.

It should have been easy to fall asleep. If there were any justice in the world, Jon would have been asleep near-instantly. Instead he found himself lying there in the dark, feeling vaguely ill with fatigue and yet unable to skip past the ever-frustrating phase of trying to convince his mind to shut off. It was hard to stop thinking after such a long day- technically, almost  _ two _ days- of constantly watching out for danger on some level.

And he wasn’t used to sleeping in the same room as another person. There was no reason the soft sound of Gerry’s breathing should have been so difficult to ignore, but it seemed louder in the quiet and Jon couldn’t seem to block it out. He couldn’t stop being entirely too  _ aware _ of the fact that he was  _ right there, _ just a few feet away, and he didn’t even know  _ why _ that had such a grip on his attention. Wasn’t it supposed to  _ help _ you fall asleep, hearing the slow, even breaths of someone who already had? Jon was fairly certain it was.

Something to do with the vulnerability of being unconscious with someone else right there, most likely, he decided. Which was absurd, because  _ Gerry _ wasn’t going to-  _ attack him _ or something, and if he’d wanted to he surely would have taken one of his many earlier opportunities. But it wasn’t as if reasoning with himself about it actually did anything other than frustrate Jon further, and he was too tired to get the right words in order anyway. So he sighed into his pillow and lay there, with Gerry’s presence lit up in his mind like he was seeing the room in infrared, until exhaustion won out a good half-hour later and his thoughts were muted by sleep.

* * *

Gerry woke up first in the morning and, predictably, felt like shit. Which- whatever, he’d slept in his car often enough to be used to it, at least this time he was in an actual  _ bed. _ He sat up and cracked every joint he was capable of, and then glanced at his companion. Jon was still asleep, curled up on his side and drooling on the pillow. He looked absolutely dead to the world. Gerry laughed softly to himself at the sight of him, and kept the lights off to let him sleep a little longer as he slipped into the bathroom.

About half an hour later, he emerged, showered and clean and feeling considerably less like a zombie. It seemed Jon had started to wake up in the meantime, sitting up slowly in the other bed and scrubbing at his face, but Gerry decided to pretend he wasn’t there until he had trousers on. Not that  _ he _ was overly self-conscious about that sort of thing, mind, but the Archivist struck him as far too repressed to hold a conversation with someone in only a bath towel without dying of embarrassment. Strange for one of the Eye’s people, really, but he’d happily take awkwardness over creepy staring.

“Morning,” he said casually, once that was taken care of.

Jon was halfway through mumbling his own “good morning” in reply when he looked over at him and realized he hadn’t yet dug out a clean shirt from his luggage. What actually ended up coming out of his mouth was a faintly exasperated, “Good  _ lord,” _ as he took a sudden and intense interest in the pattern of the carpet and went a bit red. “You could have warned me you weren’t  _ dressed.” _

Gerry snickered, which only got him  _ more _ flustered, which was  _ entirely _ too much fun to watch. “Like you’ve never seen anyone shirtless before?” Ah, there it was. He pulled a T-shirt over his head, soft from wear and advertising some band- he couldn’t actually remember which one, anymore, and the logo was certainly no help. Ha, maybe he could ask Jon to do his Archivist thing and decipher it for him.

“Not  _ recently,” _ he said in a rather defensive tone. Between that and the look he was giving the floor, it almost looked like he was sulking. “It’s hardly as if I go around  _ trying _ to, after all.”

“Alright, I’m  _ decent.” _ Gerry muffled his laugh at the baleful look Jon now turned on  _ him _ in response to the teasing, and decided to give him a break. He shouldn’t make too much fun when the man had only just woken up. “Shower’s yours if you want it.”

Jon nodded with a vague sound of acknowledgement, and pointedly took his change of clothes in  _ with _ him when he went.

* * *

There wasn’t much more to say about the hotel experience after that. Nothing Gerry cared to pay attention to, anyway. Jon finished getting ready, they ate something and caffeinated themselves, and then it was on to the Magnus Institute to talk to the rest of the archival staff. Which- he wasn’t going to admit, even to himself, the possibility he might have been nervous about. Would’ve been pretty weird, dealing with monsters and cursed objects all the time and then worrying over having to  _ introduce himself. _ It was just that he was maybe a little out of practice at talking to new people who weren’t already hostile. Not much chance to make friends with anyone in America, what with the chance of putting them in danger if he stayed too long and all. It wasn’t like it even mattered in the long run, because he was  _ definitely _ not going to be sticking around the Institute any longer than it took to stop the Unknowing- Gertrude had warned him very clearly against the dangers of  _ that _ at least, however opaque she’d been about most everything else.

So he really didn’t have much reason to care how well he got on with a group of people he’d be unlikely to spend any more time with once the ritual was stopped, assuming they didn’t all die in the attempt. Still, while Jon handled the business of checking out, he found himself half listening and half rehearsing a little script in his head, featuring the least rude possible answers to all the questions they’d probably want to ask if they, too, had already heard of him.

It was briefly very worrying when a car pulled up next to them just as they left the hotel. It wasn’t any  _ less _ worrying when the driver rolled down the window and Gerry could practically see waves of the Hunt rolling off her.

Luckily, Jon reacted first, taking a step forward and then giving her a wary look. “Daisy? What are you doing here?”

Daisy only looked bored in return. “Picking you up so nothing snatches you again? And your weird friend there, I guess.” She jerked her head impatiently in the direction of the back seat. “Get in, Sims, you’re wasting enough of my time already.”

“I, uh- r-right.” He did as told, and Gerry followed suit with a mental shrug. “Oh, ah- Daisy, this is Gerry, he’s agreed to help us with the Unknowing.”

She hummed flatly, the vaguest possible acknowledgement that something had been said. Both of the men in the car with her took the hint, and the rest of the drive was spent mostly in silence with their own respective thoughts.

It was an uncomfortable enough trip to seem much longer than it actually was. As soon as they arrived at the Magnus Institute, Jon made a beeline for his office, Gerry following semi-awkwardly behind.

“Daisy, find the others and tell them I need to talk to them, please.” Maybe it was his sudden shift into a serious, focused attitude that kept her from arguing that he could find them himself, or maybe it had more to do with the fact that he was out of her car before she actually had time to respond. Either way, he didn’t seem to doubt she would do it as he headed inside.

“Never actually been in here before,” Gerry commented as they passed the reception desk with a hurried greeting to the friendly-looking woman who sat there.

“What, even when you worked with Gertrude?”

He shrugged. “There was never any reason she  _ needed _ to bring me here, so… never happened. She didn’t seem to like the place much.”

Jon laughed without much humor in it. “I know the feeling. Come on, it’s just this way.”

_ Just this way _ did not adequately describe the amount of turns and stairs it took to reach the Archives, and Gerry privately hoped he wouldn’t need to find his own way out in a hurry. Jon’s office, as it turned out, was a fairly small thing, which felt even more cramped thanks to the amount of statements piled up in various places, presumably in some order which made sense to the Archivist himself and no one else. Gerry leaned himself against a wall and watched Jon toss various things into his bag until the two of his assistants who could actually be located showed up.

The conversation was… a little hard to follow, rushed as it was, with Jon wanting to get moving again as soon as possible. Gerry introduced himself to them much the same way Jon had introduced him to Daisy- “hi, I’m Gerry, I’m here to help make sure the world doesn’t end-” and they introduced themselves in turn, Martin and Melanie. Neither of them looked  _ especially _ happy to have him there, and both all but ignored him once they’d all been introduced, but he could hardly blame them- it was much better than the interrogation he’d been afraid of. He was more than happy to just stand back and let Jon do the rest of the explaining.

“So, what exactly  _ is _ in this storage unit?” Melanie asked, later, when they were on their way to it. Gerry took a second too long to realize the question was directed at him.

“What? Dunno, Gertrude never told me.”

Martin exchanged a look with her and chimed in as well. “So Jon just  _ happened _ to run into you in America and you just  _ happen _ to know where this storage unit is, but you can’t tell us what’s in there, and- what, that’s  _ not _ supposed to sound just a  _ little _ suspicious?” He caught a look from Jon and wilted a little, lowering his voice. “I’m just  _ saying, _ if he’s not who he  _ says _ he is, it could be a  _ trap.” _

Did… did he genuinely think Gerry couldn’t hear him? What did he expect to happen if he  _ was _ a fake? He kept those questions to himself, because he didn’t actually  _ want _ to start an argument, and just listened while Jon pointed out that he would have noticed something like that by now and the talk turned to what else he’d done in America.

Gertrude, apparently, had some  _ weird shit _ in her storage unit. He hung back near the door while the others searched through boxes, because they were now having a conversation he couldn’t hope to edge his way into, with his lack of context. At the mention of Elias and a plan and then the  _ police, _ he couldn’t help looking up- but just as he was about to ask, they found what Gertrude had presumably been talking about.

_ Plastic explosives. _ Why was he not surprised? Of course her plan for the Unknowing had been to just  _ blow it up. _ Or get  _ him _ to blow it up, more likely, until they’d suddenly realized how sick he was. She had left him in the Pittsburgh hospital while she returned to London, with a note in his pocket detailing how he could contact her once he recovered. She hadn’t actually expected him to survive, of course. When he finally  _ was _ discharged, he’d burned her information in a rare fit of caring about his own mental health.

It was funny how these things worked out, wasn’t it? A few more years and same shit, different Archivist.

* * *

Gerry decided to blame the jetlag for how little he registered of the trip back to the Institute. In his defense, no one paid  _ him _ much attention either- busy arguing about tape recorders and Elias- so it was only fair, really. He trailed after Jon to avoid getting lost until he shut himself in his office to record a letter they’d found with the explosives, and then he wasn’t sure what to do except wait outside the door until he finished. It felt a little pathetic, standing around hoping someone would tell him what to do, but the others already didn’t have any reason to trust him. Wandering around the archives on his own would just look like snooping.

He leaned back against the wall, listening to the rise and fall of Jon’s muffled voice reading aloud, and the next thing he knew, he was jerking out of a doze at the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up, shaking his hair out of his face, and met the eyes of Elias Bouchard.

“Mr. Keay,” he said, not doing Gerry’s mood any favors. “I hope you aren’t busy.” The extremely punchable smile on his face said Elias knew for a fact he wasn’t. “If you don’t mind accompanying me up to my office, there are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”

Gerry stared at him for a moment. That didn’t sound like anything good, but he couldn’t think clearly enough right now to make a believable excuse. “I, uh-”

“Actually,” interrupted Martin, and where had  _ he _ even come from? “I was just about to show him around, you know, little tour of the place since he hasn’t been here before?” He laughed nervously under Elias’s half-concealed annoyance and then turned away from him to Gerry. “I didn’t mean to make you wait so long, sorry, just got a bit sidetracked, but, uh, I’m ready now! Unless this is really urgent, I mean, I wouldn’t want to-”

Elias sighed coldly. “No, no, go on. I’ll just have to catch you at a better time, Gerard.” He turned on his heel and walked away, though not without a last sharp glance back.

Gerry watched him go warily and then turned to blink at Martin. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

Martin shook his head. “Elias getting anyone alone is… it’s not great.” Then he gestured awkwardly down the hall. “Do you- actually want a tour? Because I’m not doing anything important and it doesn’t really look like you’re doing… anything.”

“…Yeah, that would be nice.” This might be where the interrogation came in, but if it was, he might as well get it over with. And he really  _ did _ want the tour. He fell into step beside Martin, trying not to lag behind.

“So, um, I don’t want to pry, but… Elias, he called you-?”

Yup, there it was.

He tried not to sigh too heavily. “Gerard Keay, yes, that’s my- the name my mother gave me. Unfortunately for all of us, my mother was a  _ terrible person, _ so I try not to  _ use _ it any more than I can help. That answer your questions?”

Martin looked embarrassed. “Ye- sorry, I didn’t mean… Sorry.”

Gerry shrugged. “S’fine, most people ask about it eventually. Just don’t go around calling me Gerard and we won’t have a problem.”

“I- no, of course.” He still looked just,  _ painfully _ ashamed of himself. “Can I, uh- would it help if I explained that? To the others? So you don’t have to go over it with everyone individually, I mean?”

He was too surprised for a moment to respond. Then Martin started looking like he wasn’t sure if he’d said something wrong, and Gerry hurried to end the awkward silence. “I would- really appreciate that, yeah.” He knew he sounded  _ way _ too sincere over something so low-stakes as whether or not he had to explain to everyone about his name, but- he was  _ tired, _ okay? And he wasn’t used to people just offering to do him a favor out of nowhere.

If he was being weird about it, Martin didn’t react. He just smiled, looking relieved, and went on pointing out different things in the archives which Gerry attempted to keep track of.

The last door they came to, Martin actually pushed open and went inside rather than just explaining what was behind it. “And this is the kitchen- you can sit down if you like, I’m just going to make some tea.” He didn’t actually give Gerry all that much of a choice, half pushing him into a chair. Not that he put up much resistance. “How do you take it?”

“Oh, uh…” It took him a second to process. It had been a long time since anyone offered him tea- definitely as long as he’d been over in America, at least. “Just- black, thanks.”

He made a sound of acknowledgement and busied himself filling the kettle. Gerry propped his head up on one hand and watched, which turned into… yeah, pretty much just spacing out until he was startled back into reality by the sound of a mug being set down in front of him.

“Thanks,” he said again vaguely, blinking a few times and nearly burning himself on his first sip. He looked up properly when Martin sat down across from him, fidgeting with his own mug.

“I… I wanted to apologize for being sort of  _ rude, _ earlier.”

“You don’t really have to, I mean, I get it.” He breathed a tired, self-deprecating laugh. “I wouldn’t be too trusting either, if someone showed up out of nowhere looking like  _ this.” _ He gestured to, generally, all of himself.

“Still, I shouldn’t have…” He sighed. “I’ve just been stressed, you know? I mean, everyone has, but- I… I worry. About Jon. Last time I saw him he’d just been  _ kidnapped _ and then he goes running off to, to  _ America, _ with no explanation, and comes back with  _ you _ and I just-” He cut himself off, turning a bit red as he realized how much more he’d just said than he actually intended to. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t much of an apology, was it?”

“Listen- uh, Martin, right?” He was relieved to get a nod confirming that he hadn’t already forgotten one of the two people’s names he had learned here. “Yeah, it’s  _ fine, _ don’t worry about it. Really.”

He hesitated, but nodded and settled back in his chair a little more. “If you’re sure.”

Gerry smiled slightly. “I mean, you rescued me from having to go talk to your boss, I’d like you after that no matter  _ what _ you said.”

Martin had been relaxing, but his face twisted into a frown again at the mention of Elias. “Right. You don’t happen to… know what he wanted with you?”

He shrugged. “Talk me into signing an employee contract, probably. Or he thinks I know Gertrude’s secrets, in which case he’d be  _ very _ disappointed.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Don’t- you, you  _ really _ do not want to work here, okay, if he tries-”

“I know.” Gerry tried to suppress a wider smile and had a feeling he wasn’t succeeding at all, but  _ god, _ when was the last time anyone tried to keep him  _ out _ of the spooky bullshit? Trick question- it literally hadn’t happened in his memory, although he certainly  _ hoped _ his dad had made an effort early on. “But I appreciate the warning.” He was aware he sounded  _ way _ too sincere, and decided to blame his tiredness.

“Well. Good. As long as you’re, um, careful. He’s… he can get  _ really _ unpleasant.”

Well, he  _ had _ murdered Gertrude, so that wasn’t much of a surprise. …Speaking of Elias, actually: “What was it you were all talking about earlier, by the way?” Martin didn’t look like he knew what that meant, which was very fair. “Uh, Jon said… something about you having a plan?”

He jumped a little, shook his head. “Yes, right, the, um, the plan for the Unknowing,” he said, a little too loud and a little too high-pitched. He made eye contact with Gerry and then glanced up at the ceiling. It took a few seconds, but it clicked eventually that Elias’s office was up there. Right.

“Yeah,” he agreed easily. “I’m- I mean, I assume I’ll be helping with that? So it would be good to know… a little more about it?”

Martin relaxed visibly. “Sure. I’ll, yeah, I’ll try to explain- what we’re thinking so far, at least.”  _ Later, _ he mouthed silently, and then started in on his explanation of things Gerry mostly already knew.

Gerry wasn’t sure when he went from his best impression of learning new information to… uh… falling asleep on the table. What he  _ did _ know was that he woke up some time later, face buried in his arms. He dropped his head back down with a low groan almost as soon as he’d lifted it, cursing the concept of sleep as a whole and this occurrence of it in particular. A second later, though, he registered that something was different, and looked up again.

The kitchen was dark around him, with just a sliver of light coming in through the not-quite-closed door. His tea, cold by now, had been pushed to the other side of the table, out of the danger zone for being knocked over as soon as he moved. Something shifted as he sat up, and he caught the soft cloth draped over his shoulders just before it could fall to the ground. Was- what the fuck. What the  _ fuck, _ this was the cardigan Martin had been wearing, and he’d apparently just left it over him like- well, on Gerry it practically  _ was _ a blanket. He was so busy staring at  _ that, _ bunching up the fabric in his hands while his half-awake brain went blank on him, it took almost a full minute to even notice the note tucked under his mug.

He scooted his chair closer to the light and unfolded the paper mechanically.  _ Sorry for not waking you up, _ it said,  _ but you look like you need the rest. Don’t worry, we can always talk later :) _

So that was what Martin’s handwriting looked like. Gerry’s mind caught on that, although he doubted it would ever be all that important to know. Like the man himself, it was rounded and a bit messy. Gerry decided he liked it.

He was still looking at it absently when the door opened, making him jump. The note crinkled in his hand, and he quickly folded it back up and stuck it in his pocket and pretended he had been looking at it for only a normal amount of time.

“There you are,” Jon said, relief clear in his voice. “I didn’t mean to leave you in the hall so long, I just… got a bit  _ sidetracked, _ looking at that letter. It was…” He trailed off and then remembered himself. “Sorry. But you’ve been okay on your own, right?”

That was a difficult question for someone this groggy. He’d been fine, but he hadn’t actually  _ been _ on his own most of the time, and when he was he got ambushed by Elias. He decided to just nod vaguely. “I, uh… Martin showed me around a little. I… might have fallen asleep on him.” Jon’s eyes landed on the bundle of cloth he was still holding in his arms, and Gerry felt his face heat up. He added rather lamely, as if to make up for it, “He left his sweater in here.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure he’s still around somewhere, so you shouldn’t have much trouble getting it back to him.” He coughed. “Anyway. If you’re not busy or, ah, too tired- could you come back to my office with me? There are some things that don’t make sense to me, in the letter, that is, and I was hoping you could help, a-and of course we’ll need to talk about what our next move is…” He didn’t show any sign of actually approaching a full stop, so Gerry stepped in to save him from going on.

“Yeah- yeah, sure. Dunno how much more I know than you at this point, but I can try?” He stood up, stretched, and followed Jon out of the room. Neither of them mention the fact that he still had both arms wrapped around Martin’s cardigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sadly waves goodbye to being able to copy everything that happens from canon*
> 
> i gotta, what, PLAN now? come up with my OWN story? terrible.


	3. three bros, chilling in an office, five feet apart cause they're pining and oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin tries not to be jealous, with debatable success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been like six months but i can explain- *knocking over water and running away gif*

It wasn’t that Martin  _ disliked _ Gerry. There was no reason for animosity there, he was a perfectly nice guy as far as Martin could tell, and once he’d gotten past his initial distrust they’d had a perfectly nice conversation. And  _ Jon _ certainly seemed to think highly of him- but. Well. That was the problem, right there, wasn’t it?

Martin didn’t like to think of himself as a  _ jealous _ person. He  _ was, _ but that didn’t mean he liked to  _ think _ of himself like that. Especially when it wasn’t as if he was  _ dating  _ Jon, or anything. He barely had anything to be jealous of in the first place. It just… didn’t seem  _ fair. _ How was it possible that he spent  _ years _ hoping and trying to get Jon’s attention, until what started as a little crush developed into something he didn’t think he could get over if he tried, and then the man just happened to run into someone in  _ America _ who was supposed to have  _ died, _ and was immediately enamored after knowing him for all of  _ two days? _ He’d barely gotten ten minutes to talk to Jon alone since he came back. And they were all busy, he understood that, but he didn’t seem to have any shortage of time to shut himself up in his office with  _ Gerry _ to discuss whatever tiny new scrap of possibly useful information he’d dug up.

He tried not to make it obvious how much it bothered him, even if he frequently felt the urge to shout through the door at Jon that  _ the rest of us still know things, too, you know. _ He’d been bitchy enough that first day, before getting ahold of himself, and he wasn’t going to act like  _ that _ again. It was possible that he had… overcorrected a little, since, going out of his way to be nice to Gerry whenever their paths crossed. Still, better to be overly nice than the opposite. And besides, every time he saw him, the man seemed to be in need of a bit of kindness- he had a perpetual aura of not having slept or eaten a proper meal in several days, and the way he flustered at every one of Martin’s little favors, it was like no one had ever done anything nice for him before. So he kept it up, and forcefully squashed down the wave of resentment he felt every time he saw him conferring with Jon in private. It wasn’t fair, no, but it wouldn’t be any  _ more _ fair to take his own feelings out on someone who hadn’t really done anything wrong.

So, yes, he was trying not to do anything like  _ that. _ But when he walked by Jon’s office and saw that the two of them were shut in there again- or rather,  _ still, _ as they apparently had been since early that morning… well, there were polite ways of reminding them other people existed as well, weren’t there? So he knocked on the door and poked his head in, and his excuse was only half an invented reason to talk to Jon. “Sorry to interrupt- just checking in, anything you… need? It’s past time for lunch, I could bring you two something while I’m getting mine.” And then he would know they were actually  _ eating. _

Jon glanced at his watch, baffled once again by the inconvenient fact that time still passed as usual, regardless of whether he was paying attention to it. Then he directed the exact same look at Martin, for an equally brief length of time, before turning back to the mess of papers in front of him, and Martin sighed internally. He opened his mouth, almost certainly to brush him off and, at best, claim unconvincingly that he would take a break “soon.” Before he could say anything, though, he was interrupted.

“Well, uh, if you’re already going out…” Gerry gave him a faint one-sided smile, and Martin realized guiltily that he’d nearly forgotten the other man was there. “We haven’t really had time to eat.”

Jon took a moment to recalibrate, looking embarrassed, and nodded in agreement. Of course, Martin thought with only a little annoyance, he wasn’t going to argue with  _ him. _ “That would be… nice. Thank you, Martin.”

Martin smiled at both of them with an air of satisfaction- on second thought, he  _ had _ to feel at least somewhat positively about anyone who could override Jon’s refusal to take proper care of himself. “Anything in particular?” Jon only shrugged, which was fine; Martin already had an idea of what he liked, after working together for this long.

Gerry, at whom the question was mainly directed, looked at him like a deer in headlights. “I’m not picky,” he finally said, after a long few seconds of looking like he wasn’t even sure what food  _ was. _ “I’ll just have whatever you’re getting?” And, okay, he realized now he hadn’t actually said anything about  _ where _ he was planning to get their lunch, so maybe that wasn’t such a strange response, and now they were  _ both _ feeling awkward.

“Alright,” he said, “I’ll- be back soon, then,” and fled before anyone could make it worse, nearly missing the belated “thanks” from Gerry just before he shut the door.

When Martin came back with food- plastic-wrapped sandwiches, which he’d decided was the option least likely to make a mess of any important papers- he was surprised by the reception he got for it. He was used to putting things on Jon’s desk, getting a distracted hum of acknowledgement, and leaving him to his work. This time, though, it seemed they had been waiting for him to return- Gerry visibly perked up when he opened the door, and Jon actually put down the pen he was using to scribble in the margins of some document.

“Thank you,” Jon said again, starting to unwrap his sandwich and carefully flattening out the wrapper as he did.

Gerry just gave him an appreciative look to communicate the same sentiment. “Oh- how much was it?”

“What? Oh!” Martin waved him off. “No, no, you don’t need to pay me back or anything.”

“You sure?”

“Really, it’s… I mean, these aren’t exactly  _ expensive.” _

As usual, he seemed thrown by the idea of a favor with nothing expected in return. Just sat there blinking at Martin, looking for something else to say and not finding it, until he reached the end of how long he could reasonably hover in the doorway and turned to leave.

“Well,” he said, one last attempt to prolong the interaction before Jon shut him out again, “if there’s anything else I can do to help, you know where to find me…”

“Wait- uh.”

Both Martin and Jon looked at Gerry, and he flustered.

“Just- if you want to help, you could… stay and help? I mean, if you’re not busy yourself? Assuming you don’t mind, obviously,” he added to Jon.

Jon looked nearly as surprised as Martin felt. “I… yes, of course, that would be… fine.” It was clear enough he didn’t  _ love _ the idea of someone else joining him, but it wasn’t as if he had any reason for it he’d actually be willing to  _ say, _ was it?

And as Martin thought about it, maybe that was the point. If Jon’s hero-crush was apparent to  _ him, _ it wouldn’t be too surprising if Gerry had picked up on it as well. And if he had noticed and didn’t  _ reciprocate, _ he’d probably like someone else to be there as a sort of buffer, to make sure things didn’t get awkward. Martin was the last person who was going to be opposed to  _ that. _

“Oh, uh… yeah! I’ll help as much as I can,” he said, and pulled up an extra chair.

Jon only nodded, but Gerry gave him a  _ very _ genuine, “Thanks.”

There wasn’t much in the way of small talk while they ate. That wasn’t to say all three of them sat there in silence, but when Martin tried asking how the day was going, what he got was a recap of everything the other two had been discussing.

“We’re trying to work out where it’s all happening,” Gerry explained. “The Unknowing. Jon thinks it’s this shut-down wax museum-”

“The House of Wax,” Jon clarified without really looking up, “in Great Yarmouth.”

“Right, that. But it looks pretty abandoned, no… nothing going in or out, as far as we’ve been able to tell, so we’re not sure. But if it’s  _ not _ there, we don’t know where  _ else _ it might be, so we’ve been sort of… going in circles about it. Trying to see if there’s  _ any _ evidence anything’s happening there.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re really getting anywhere,” Martin hazarded.

He propped his elbows on the desk and sighed into his hands. “Because we’re  _ not.” _

Right. He knew Jon tended to do this sometimes, trying to force the answers he wanted into existence by sheer force of fixation on the question, and it very rarely did him any good. He would have  _ hoped _ working with someone else would mitigate that, but it didn’t look like Gerry was any better. This time, though, he just might have something to convince him to give it a rest. “Well, if you want to focus on something else for a while, I found this statement earlier I was meaning to tell Jon about…”

The Archivist finally looked up at his name. “What is it?” The question came out sharply impatient, and he winced a little when he heard himself, visibly trying to soften. “Sorry. What, ah, what did you find?”

Well. That was new. Martin hadn’t even thought to be hurt by the tone at this point, coming from him, and he tried not to be overly endeared by Jon’s uncharacteristic effort to avoid sounding rude. Still, he knew the pleasant surprise leaked into his own voice. “It’s another statement about the Hill Top Road house- it doesn’t really, uh, answer any of our  _ questions _ about the place so much as raise even more, but if you want to take a break from worrying about the Unknowing?”

Jon was obviously sold as soon as he mentioned Hill Top Road, but he still made a show of thinking about it. “It’s not exactly top priority right now- but I suppose we  _ haven’t _ been making much progress here…” He glanced over at Gerry to see how  _ he _ felt about it, one last attempt to not feel guilty for stepping away from the ‘preventing a world-ending ritual’ research, and evidently it worked. “Yes, I think that would be… It’s- a good idea, Martin. Could you get the statement for us?”

“Sure, it’s just on my desk still…”

“And while he’s doing  _ that,” _ Gerry added, leaning back, “maybe  _ you _ can fill me in on what the hell you’re both talking about.”

* * *

Anya Villette’s statement was… interesting.

Martin broke the silence in the wake of Jon reading it out on tape. “So, uh… what do you think?”

“It sounds like a, a… some sort of parallel universe.” Jon looked over at Gerry. “I don’t suppose you know anything about it?”

He shrugged. “Could be she just had her memories messed with, and disappeared off the face of the earth after giving that statement… or it could be that the Web has access to, like you say, some sort of parallel universe. I know which I’d prefer.”

Jon sighed. “And given our  _ luck, _ I know which seems more likely.” He hesitated, glancing back down at the statement. “But… it’s not necessarily  _ all _ bad, is it? I mean, she said there was no Magnus Institute in her London, she’d never heard of it. Could that mean that the, the fears, all of it, they don’t exist there like they do for us? Other than at Hill Top Road, at least. Maybe… maybe things are better there.”

“Probably not.” Jon visibly wilted at Gerry’s dismissal, and he looked a bit sorry about it, but not enough to stop him from going on. “The fears come from, you know, people being afraid of things. I don’t see a world plausibly existing where  _ that _ doesn’t happen. More likely it just means Jonah Magnus never founded an institute to study them. Less problems for the specific people who work here, maybe, but I’d be surprised if the world itself is any better. It just… doesn’t work like that.”

“And why can’t it, exactly?” Martin sat up straight and crossed his arms. “Surely just because we’re  _ afraid _ of things doesn’t mean they automatically have to- turn into  _ malevolent supernatural forces _ with their own cults trying to start the  _ apocalypse. _ Is it really  _ that _ unbelievable to you that, that things could be  _ good _ somewhere? Because it’s pretty fucking bleak to think there are no possible realities out there that are any better than  _ this. _ If you don’t mind, I’m going to keep hoping otherwise.”

Both of them were stunned into silence for a few seconds. Martin turned a bit red. He didn’t usually shout like that, and- well, he hadn’t really  _ meant _ to, but he couldn’t stand that kind of pessimistic attitude. Even if it might well have been justified.  _ Especially _ when hearing it made Jon get that closed-off look that usually meant he was about to make himself impossible to talk to for the next few hours, because he couldn’t mess up another conversation if he refused to have any at all.

Speaking of Jon, he was now looking between Martin and Gerry with his hands up as if he thought there was danger of a fight breaking out. “Alright, it’s- it’s just an idea. I mean, it’s not as if we’re  _ going _ there; I would actually prefer to stay  _ far _ away from anything the Web is involved in, given any choice in the matter, so… let’s not argue?”

Martin bit his lip. He ought to apologize. In the second he spent hesitating, though, Gerry beat him to it.

“No, you’re right, Martin.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re right. Doesn’t make any more sense to assume everything’s terrible in every possible world than it would to assume it’s all universally better, yeah?”

“…I, pretty much, yeah. Sorry for shouting at you, though.”

Gerry waved him off. “Nah, don’t be. Honestly, I probably needed it. Not much left in the way of optimism at this point, you know? If shouting at me helps you hold on to yours a little longer, you can shout all you want. Keep me from being too depressing.” He offered up one of those crooked little smiles. Martin was  _ thoroughly _ off balance.

“Uh. Okay,” he managed. Jon looked just as confused as he was, so at least Martin could be sure he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t expected that in the slightest.

“So, uh…” Gerry looked between the two of them awkwardly. “Just theoretically. If things  _ were _ better over there than here… what d’you think it would be like?”

Martin recognized the offer of a return to normal, light conversation and accepted it eagerly. “We could have a normal job, for one thing.”

Jon nodded, looking wistfully into the distance. “Possibly even one either of us is qualified for?”

“Ah, getting ambitious, I see.”

“What about you?” he asked Gerry.

He leaned back and considered it for a moment. “My childhood might have been slightly less awful.”

“Hear, hear.”

* * *

Jon cleared his throat, trying and failing to wipe the smile from his face so he could be serious. Martin squashed down the little voice that sullenly wondered why  _ he _ had never been able to get him to smile like that. If he was happy, that was a good thing, not something for Martin to sulk over like a child.

“Well, this has been- nice, but there are still other things we need to do today. I have a few things to ask Elias about in a bit, and Martin should go find the others so we can be sure everyone knows what’s happening with the plan.”

Martin couldn’t help but notice how much of his attention was focused on Gerry, despite supposedly talking to both of them- especially on the bit about how nice it had been. That voice he was trying to ignore remarked that Gerry seemed completely oblivious to it all, looking half at Jon and half in the direction of the door Martin was sat in front of, like he couldn’t wait to be out of here. They  _ had _ been at it for a long time, so it would have been uncharitable of him to draw any deeper conclusions from that. It was just good to know he  _ also _ didn’t have to worry about drawing any conclusions from him hypothetically  _ returning _ Jon’s attention.

It had been like that the whole time, really. Gerry didn’t seem all that interested, but Jon was obviously trying to impress him at every turn. It was a little bit funny to watch, though also a little bit sad. Especially for Martin. With Jon so clearly crushing hard on someone else, there wasn’t much chance of him even  _ noticing _ Martin’s own feelings for him any time soon, let alone returning them. It was probably for the best if he just didn’t say anything. If things became awkward between them, Jon might not feel comfortable talking to him anymore, and Martin had spent  _ way _ too much time convincing the man to trust him to ruin it now over something so easily avoided. He would just… keep quiet and eventually get over him, and they would be friends.

Easier said than done, of course. Jon looked at him, now, still smiling, and Martin tried not to look too deeply fond as he reflexively smiled back. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he said- not quite pointed, but certainly hinting. Ah. He was probably just wondering why Martin hadn’t moved yet.

“Right! Yes, see you.” He nearly tripped over his chair standing up, and Jon looked faintly amused, though he tried to hide it in the interest of politeness. By the time Martin sorted himself out, Gerry was up and opening the door for him.

“Thought I’d go out for a minute before we get started,” he offered in explanation. “Clear my head or whatever.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Martin nodded to him as he passed and went to find Melanie and Basira. Jon, he tried not to notice, looked a little disappointed that Gerry wasn’t staying there with him.

“Sorry- Martin?”

He paused and looked back. “Hm?”

“I, uh…” Gerry laughed self-consciously. “Which way is it to the stairs, again? I still get turned around in here.”

“Oh! It’s just that way, and you turn there- see? You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

“Right, thanks.” He hesitated, and Martin waited to see if he needed anything else. “Will… Do you think you’ll want to help us again tomorrow? It was… really helpful,” he ended awkwardly.

“Oh,” Martin repeated. “I mean- of course, if you don’t think Jon will mind. He does get touchy about people in his space, so you should probably ask him?”

“Does he really? I didn’t notice that.”

“Of course  _ you _ wouldn’t have,” he said under his breath, and then quickly rectified: “I mean, he’s the one who invited you, so it’s a little different.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, I need to go- you know, find everyone.” Martin made his escape before the interaction could get any more awkward than it had.

Locating his two coworkers wasn’t exactly a difficult task. In fact, he probably could have just texted them to come down to the tunnels. Martin suspected Jon had been looking for an excuse to get him out of his office. He didn’t mind so much, though, because now he had a chance to talk to them in something approaching privacy.

“Look, I, I know it’s hard to trust people right now, but can you  _ try _ to be nice to Gerry? He’s here to help, and it’s not like he’s done anything wrong.”

Basira raised an eyebrow. “We’re talking about the end of the world, Martin, I don’t exactly have time to be making friends.”

“Well, just- try  _ not _ to be a dick, then. Because you don’t have to be friends, but you do have to work together smoothly.”

“…Yeah, I can do that.”

“Hang on, though, weren’t  _ you _ the one saying he might be an imposter when he first got here?”

Martin winced. “I… changed my mind.”

Melanie looked at him deadpan. “You saw him looking sad and got your fussing instincts activated, didn’t you?”

“That is- none of your business. I’m just  _ saying-” _

She cut him off with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll play nice.”

“Good,” he huffed. The teasing was just uncalled for, if you asked him. Try to be a nice person around here, and this was what you got. “To the tunnels, then. Come on.”

They both sobered up and followed after him. Gerry reappeared soon after, smelling of the smoke break he’d gone out for, and they all made their way down to the tunnels.

Jon was already down there, talking to Daisy. “That’s… pretty much all we’ve got so far. I’m about to go up and talk to Elias, just in case he’s feeling helpful at all today.”

“Doubt it.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “And… are you sure- do you think Martin will be okay?”

Whatever Daisy was about to say, Martin didn’t let her, in the interest of not letting Jon say anything either embarrassing or incriminating. “Did I hear my name?” he called, and Jon startled.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I was just…  _ will _ you be okay? With- you know, the Unknowing.”

Martin, of course, knew what he was really asking. “Yes, Jon, I’ll be  _ fine. _ I said I wanted to help, didn’t I?” Maybe the dark of the tunnels would hide his blushing at the thought of Jon worrying about him. …Yeah, he was not getting over him any time soon.

Jon coughed. “Right. Of course. Well, ah, I had better be- you know…” With that smooth exit, he left to find Elias.

Martin turned back to everyone else and nodded in a way he hoped was more confident than he felt. At least Jon’s awkwardness might have taken everyone’s attention off his own. “Alright, then- the plan.”

* * *

While everyone else went over what needed to be done, both to stop the Unknowing and… otherwise, Jon reluctantly made his way upstairs and knocked on the door to Elias’s office. The creepy interest he took in his Archivist would have been difficult to miss at this point, which made Jon the obvious choice to distract him so the rest could have some privacy. Unfortunately, it also meant he would have to  _ put up with _ Elias’s creepy interest in him. He understood the necessity- and God knew it was nothing compared to what he’d done to Melanie, and most likely would do to Martin soon enough- but he was already emotionally tired after running into Tim earlier, leaving the tunnels while Jon was going in.

_ Tim. _ Jon would do almost anything to go back to the way it had been years ago, before they transferred to the archives, when they’d been friends. Tim deserved better than what their lives had become. As it was now, Jon could hardly look at him without wanting to cry, and it seemed Tim couldn’t look at  _ him _ without wanting to throw something. And it was, in several indisputable ways, Jon’s own fault. There wasn’t much he could do to change that now, though. At this point, the most he could really do for Tim was to make sure he got his closure. If he wanted to help, he had to stay focused on the Unknowing… which meant, at the moment, having an unpleasant conversation with Elias.

“Come in, Jon,” Elias called, and Jon refused to be disconcerted by his habit of addressing people by name without waiting for them to announce themselves first. He opened the door and stepped inside. “What is it?”

Jon swallowed and nodded. “About our preparations for the Unknowing. I assume you’re aware of how we intend to stop it.”

“Using Gertrude’s collection of plastic explosives, yes. It’s not exactly the most  _ delicate _ approach, but there’s something to be said for keeping things straightforward.”

“If you have any better ideas, I’m open to hearing them. That’s what I came up here for, in fact.”

“Must we really have this conversation again, Jon?”

“You’re still keeping something from us,” Jon insisted. “Aren’t you?”

Elias was the picture of patience in the process of being tested. “I’ve told you  _ many _ times now, you can’t expect me to hold your hand through everything. It wastes my time and does you no good in the long term.”

“There is not going to  _ be _ any  _ long term _ to consider if the Circus  _ ends the world! _ If you have any information, anything whatsoever, that could  _ possibly _ reduce the likelihood that I and everyone I’m responsible for will be killed in a failed effort to  _ prevent the damn apocalypse, _ I need you to be helpful for once in your life and  _ tell me.” _ He wasn’t so much playing up his frustration as ceasing to keep it so tightly repressed, and honestly? It felt pretty good having an excuse to shout at his terrible, evil boss.

He didn’t realize how much compulsion had crept into his voice until Elias shivered appreciatively. “My, you  _ are _ coming along.” See, this was exactly the sort of thing that made Jon not want to talk to the man. Well, that and every other awful thing about him. “Fine. Consider it a reward for your progress; I’ll indulge you with a bit of transparency. I don’t have anything for you at the moment-” he held up a hand before Jon could get angry again- “but I may be able to find something of use to you among Gertrude’s tapes. As soon as I’ve located it, I’ll let you know.”

“…I would appreciate it,” Jon said begrudgingly. In all honesty, that was more than he’d expected to get out of this interaction, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to utter the words  _ thank you _ in the direction of Elias Bouchard. “I’ll get back to my own research, then.” That had probably bought enough time, and more to the point, he didn’t think he could stand to be in here much longer. He turned to go.

“Ah- Jon, wait.”

He stopped with his hand on the door handle, not bothering to disguise his impatience. “Yes?”

“There’s one more thing I’d like to discuss, while I have you here.”

Jon turned around reluctantly. “Go on.”

“On the matter of Gerard Keay…”

“What about him?”

“I’m impressed that you were able to convince him to come back. He’ll be a useful person to have around- not only for the Unknowing, but in whatever situation you may find yourself facing next. If you have the chance to bring it up, I would strongly recommend signing him on as an official assistant. Gertrude lost track of him once; I wouldn’t like to see you make the same mistake.”

“I have all the assistants I need.”

“Right now, yes, but… to be blunt, Jon, I would be surprised if you didn’t find yourself with at least one opening in the aftermath of the Unknowing. I would love to be wrong, of course, but it’s always wiser to plan for the  _ worst _ possible outcome, don’t you think?”

_ “In the event _ that you’re correct,” Jon replied, making his refusal to accept it prematurely as clear as possible in his icy tone, “I will be sure to ask him if he’s interested in the position. If that’s all, I have work to do.” He took Elias’s lack of any further protest as a dismissal and left without another word.

* * *

Martin had already told Gerry the basics of the plan for the Unknowing- which, really, he could have extrapolated on his own with one look at the pile of explosives- but this was the first he’d heard of their slightly more complicated scheme to take down Elias. He didn’t seem all that happy about it, with the stricken look he gave Martin.

“And- you’re sure it has to be  _ you?” _

“Yes,” Martin sighed. “It doesn’t make sense for anyone else to stay behind, it’d look suspicious. And it was my idea in the first place. I know what I’m doing.” Look, it was nice to have his well-being cared about and all, but if one more person questioned whether he should be doing this it was going to cross over from ‘nice’ into ‘mildly insulting.’

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” Next question: “What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything, if you’d rather not,” Martin said quickly. “Jon only brought you in to help with the planning stage, technically, so you can just… leave, if you want, once that’s done.”

“But,” Basira added, “we could also really use you with us. If you’re willing to come, like he said.”

Gerry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Might as well, I guess. Don’t have any other plans lined up for the near future.”

“Good.” She gave him an approving nod. “Any other questions?”

None were forthcoming, and they all gradually wandered away, Daisy and Basira in one direction and Melanie back toward the archives. Martin and Gerry were the last ones left in the tunnels.

“I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t,” Gerry said after a moment. “I just meant- I wish you didn’t  _ have _ to.”

Martin wished that, too. “Thanks. …I mean, it’s better than getting killed by evil clowns, though, right?”

“Maybe.” He bit his lip. “It’s- you’re… you seem like a good person, Martin. It’s probably too late for me to ever get out of this, but… I hope you can have something better someday, at least. You deserve that.”

He blinked a few times, looking at the wall. Gerry had a way of coming out of nowhere with something painfully earnest when he least expected it. How was anyone supposed to have a response to that on the spot? “You, too,” he finally managed. Always easier than flat-out accepting a compliment, especially one like  _ that. _ “Even if you think you can’t, it’s… I mean, never say never, right?” He suppressed an awkward laugh.

“Sure.” He smiled. Martin returned it, mostly relieved to have lightened the mood a little. A few seconds passed.

“We should go back up,” Martin eventually said. “Jon’s probably wondering where we are by now.”

“Oh- uh, right.” Gerry looked embarrassed to have been caught spacing out, but he recovered. “Lead the way.”


End file.
